Best 1026 quotes in «lies quotes» category

It's lies. It's all lies. Some of them are just prettier than others, that's all. People see what they think is there.

It's not God who doesn't care, it's us

It’s not a lie,” Shallan said, “if everyone understands and knows what it means.” “Mm. Those are some of the best lies.

It's not the lies he tells, it's the seductive way in which he persuades you they are not true.

It's okay to be honest about not knowing rather than spreading falsehood. While it is often said that honesty is the best policy, silence is the second best policy.

It's really hard to deal with a narrow-minded people that have a limited sphere of thinking, what ever you tell him/her will be twisted into falsehood, the truth will be lost and will ruin everything.

It’s strange how what drives us may abandon us midstream, how what tickles our ears with lies one moment may tell us truths that knock us on our emotional ass the next. After all, it is an unbelievably real world, with Darwin scribbling his thoughts into books and telling us what monkeys we are. Each of us explores possibility, hungry for sustaining adoration, yet we know enough to render ourselves helpless. We strive and strain, bellow and believe, we learn, and everything we learn tells us the same thing: life is one great meaningful experience in a meaningless world. Brilliance has many parts, yet each part is incomplete. We live, heal and attempt to piece together a picture worth the price of our very lives. The picture I saw presented demonic executioners, who crippled those daring to look and consumed souls without defense. They’re everywhere. Some are people we know. Others are the great fears and addictions of our lives.

It’s the lies we tell ourselves, about ourselves that we hang on to, sending our lives in the wrong direction. We talk ourselves out of our own ambitions. When we let go of this falsehood our total well-being becomes clearer and fulfilling. There’s a certain amount of confidence that will always rest with the truth. We’re capable of accomplishing anything we set out to achieve.

It’s the lies we tell ourselves, about ourselves that we hang on to, sending our lives in the wrong direction. When we let go off this falsehood our total well-being becomes clearer and fulfilling. There’s a certain amount of confidence that will always rest with the truth.

It's true what they say, then-history is written by the victors.

It was a beautiful lie that they had all been telling themselves—that you could have magic without monsters.

It was after a Frontline television documentary screened in the US in 1995 that the Freyds' public profile as aggrieved parents provoked another rupture within the Freyd family, when William Freyd made public his own discomfort. 'Peter Freyd is my brother, Pamela Freyd is both my stepsister and sister-in-law,' he explained. Peter and Pamela had grown up together as step-siblings. 'There is no doubt in my mind that there was severe abuse in the home of Peter and Pam, while they were raising their daughters,' he wrote. He challenged Peter Freyd's claims that he had been misunderstood, that he merely had a 'ribald' sense of humour. 'Those of us who had to endure it, remember it as abusive at best and viciously sadistic at worst.' He added that, in his view, 'The False memory Syndrome Foundation is designed to deny a reality that Peter and Pam have spent most of their lives trying to escape.' He felt that there is no such thing as a false memory syndrome.' Criticising the media for its uncritical embrace of the Freyds' campaign, he cautioned: That the False Memory Syndrome Foundation has been able to excite so much media attention has been a great surprise to those of us who would like to admire and respect the objectivity and motive of people in the media. Neither Peter's mother nor his daughters, nor I have wanted anything to do with Peter and Pam for periods of time ranging up to two decades. We do not understand why you would 'buy' into such an obviously flawed story. But buy it you did, based on the severely biased presentation of the memory issue that Peter and Pam created to deny their own difficult reality. p14-14 Stolen Voices: An Exposure of the Campaign to Discredit Childhood Testimony

It was entirely taken for granted that there wasn't any lying in our family, and I was advanced in adolescence before I realized that in plenty of homes where I played with schoolmates, and went to their parties, children lied to their parents and parents lied to their children and to each other. It took me a long time to realize that these very same everyday lies, and the stratagems and jokes and tricks and dares that went with them, were in fact the basis of the scenes I so well loved to hear about and hoped for and treasured in the conversation of adults. My instinct - the dramatic instinct - was to lead me, eventually, on the right track for a storyteller: the scene was full of hints, pointers, suggestions, and promises of things to find out and know about human beings.I had to grow up and learn to listen for the unspoken as well as the spoken - and to know a truth, I also had to recognize a lie.

It was hard to live normally when you were constantly pretending you didn't see what was going on in front of your face.

It was so anathema and yet so necessary: it felt like a razor unraveling her, one cut all the way from her anus to the back of her neck, degloving her whole body and turning her inside out so her secrets were on the outside to become her lies.

It was true—but it was harsh. And it feels like maybe a harsh truth can be as hurtful as a lie.

It will always be foolish to ask a cheater if they would ever cheat on you.

It was then, there in the darkness, with only those little pin-points of light to see by, light from a world away where other people with their own problems and their own secrets lived their own lives, that everything in our world changed for good.

I used to pray you know, pray to God that He would somehow stop it. All the nights of listening to my mother scream and things breaking. Of holding my brother and sister and listening to them cry and begging me to stop it.' My voice is slow and steady like a freight train at night. 'I was too young, and we were always told that they'd put us in foster homes where people would rape us if we ever said anything. So we explained away the bruises and my mom wore big sunglasses whenever she left the house. And we invented car accidents if the bruising was too bad to cover with make-up.

I've Learned To Accept that one is never as great or terrible as they are made to feel, and the truth lies somewhere in between.

I've swallowed myself but the fever remains. I'm numb to the pleasure but still feel the pain. If I showed you my soul would you cover your eyes? If I told you the truth would you tell me to lie? I keep it all inside because I know the man is everything but kind.

I was beginning to agree with the thesis that some truths were better off dead. And buried.

I was lead to get help from Dr Mika Saheed during the period my husband left me in July 2016 because i wanted my husband to be home with me and we could be together on next valentine's day. I skeptically called to see if he can be of help in making my husband love me and return his love and emotions back to me again. So when we had the first conversation he reassured and i quote "This spell is going to take a bit longer than my previous spells, due to his reluctance and a controlling spell laid on him, but no worries I'm going to bring him back to you and make him fall in love with you again''. I can now bear out to the whole world that I moved in with my Husband in just 24 hours after his spell casting for me, and he has committed to the relationship and I can't thank Dr Mika Saheed of vudoo temple enough for changing my life for good..I am totally amazed and so happy that you have been able to do this for me. I am so amazed today because IT WORKS and I am a living proof. Stephanie I AM SO HAPPY VUDOO TEMPLE, MY HUSBAND IS BACK, VISIT (U.S TEMPLE CELL NO: +15617051922 / U.K TEMPLE CELL NO: +447700308481, vudoospell@ gmail. com ) FOR HELP. Nashville TN.

I wasn’t sure what was worse: being oblivious or living within reality. (Eric)

I was trying to spare her any further stress(...)I wasn’t trying to be deceitful.

Lies quit when they are tired; truth quits when it has won.

Look at you Infidelity”, shaking his head in frustration. “I’m not sure if your choice of drug is passion, the thrill of the affair or the man himself, but there is a void you are trying to have us fulfill in your life and you are hooked! The secrets, the lies, the lame attempts to quit sleeping around…the isolation; don’t you get it? YOU LOVE INFIDELITY!" - Loving Infidelity

Men seek a great deal, but fatally close, albeit very different, is one's pride in proving oneself right with one's zeal for finding the truth.

Men wouldn't lie that much to the women in their life, if the women don’t ask so many questions.

Michelle, since the first day I met you I knew you were the one for me. I knew that I would make you my wife. I love waking up to your beautiful face every morning and seeing you before I close my eyes each night. I love you with everything in me, and I promise to be the man that you need for the rest of our lifetime together. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?

Mind control is built on lies and manipulation of attachment needs. Valerie Sinason, (Forward)

Minciunile sunt fascinante pentru că ele demască paradoxurile societății noastre

It was as if she would never be whole until the secrets of the past were exposed.

It was hard to tell if he was lying, or really believed his own bullshit. “We’re good for each other. You give me what I need. I give you what you need. No one needs to know what that is because it’s a secret between us. So we put on our suit. That’s the investment: us.

It was the last thing I ever said to her. A lie. The worst kind of lie --the kind shrouded in good intentions. The kind cowards use to justify their weakness.

I've frightened your shadow, and you do not know it. I've told you everything nobody expects to hear. I've put an end to your game. You have escaped from me, finding shelter in all your lies. You are now looking for the next corporate mission. Good Luck with that.

I want to be known as the 23 year-old who is foolishly in love with a Prince she can't see. I want to rejoice while holding the rose of singleness, even when my hands bleed from its thorns. I want to resist the urge to envy the pairs growing in the middle of my neighbors' gardens. I want to be rooted in the simple truth that unripen pairs taste like lies and lingering loneliness. 
I want to put Jesus on my bullet wound and cling to His heart wrenching hope because He was kind enough to be a Band-Aid when He should have stayed a King.

...I was like a bird, my wings once carried on a wind of lies. I would beat those wings to stay aloft, and when the wind suddenly died or buffeted me around, I would keep beating those strong wings and fly in my own slice of wind

I was recently living more comfortably surrounded by secrets... Like dozens of luxurious satiny pillows, they were embracing me from all directions into safe lulling warmth, thus isolating me from the sharp dead-cold edges of the truth hiding behind their endearingly smooth textures and tender soothing colours. Secrets could be so irresistibly beautiful...

I will never know, because I will never be able to be in the position to witness those things. And I don't care to know something I myself cannot confirm. No one should care about this.

Living is messy.

Love hadn’t existed in this world. Only hate, deceit and lies, but by letting him in I’d let all of that crumble. By letting me in he’d done the same, and now we were engaged in an even deadlier game than before.

Love feeds on deception.

Loving you has been worse than an addiction to drugs. At least I don't have the drugs c r a w l i n g into my bed at night.

Luke said that he was surprised when I showed up at his room. That he hadn’t meant to give me the wrong idea. That he would never have taken it beyond just kissing. And he looked so genuine. So trustworthy. So sorry about what had happened. He almost convinced me that I’d misread his signals.” Hallelujah pauses. “The whole time, I kept my mouth shut. I wish I hadn’t. But I was still so humiliated. And I felt guilty. I made out with him. I liked it. And no one made me go to his room.” Her voice breaks. She has to swallow past a lump in her throat. “I know Luke’s not a good guy. I know what he did isn’t my fault. It’s his. But still, none of it would’ve happened if I hadn’t gone to his room.” She’s almost there. Almost done. Almost heard. Something deep inside her hurts like it hasn’t hurt in a long time. But she knows that this gash had to reopen in order to heal. That’s how wounds work. They need air. “I knew I’d get punished, and I did. My parents grounded me. I was put on youth group probation. But I honestly thought Luke’s lies would just fade away if I kept a low profile. There’s always gossip about someone. This time it was me.” ... “Luke is still telling people about what supposedly happened that night,” Hallelujah says. “And he makes fun of me. All the time. What I look like, what I say, my name. And he does this thing at church: whenever we sing a hymn with my name in it, he sings it like he’s hooking up with me. He sings the word ‘hallelujah’ at me. He moans it. And I hate it.” That’s one of the reasons she stopped singing: his voice, his fake grunts of satisfaction, ruining the music she loved so much. “You said,” she says to Jonah, “he wanted to keep me upset. To keep me from telling anyone what really happened. Well, it worked.” She pauses. “Until now.” “Until now,” Rachel repeats. Then she curses. “I can’t believe him. I can’t believe he got away with it.” “I let him get away with it,” Hallelujah says softly. “No. He’s the one who crossed the line. And okay, maybe you could’ve spoken up sooner. But if no one pushed you for your side of the story, that’s on them.” Rachel yawns and stretches. “And when we get home, we’re going to set the record straight.

Lying is a full time occupation, even if you tell just one, because once you tell it, you're stuck with it. If you want to do it right, you have to visualize it, conjure the graphics, tone, and sequence of action, then relate it purposefully in the midst of seemingly spontaneous dialogue. The more actual the lie becomes to the listener, the more actual it becomes to the teller, which is scariest of all. Some people really get to believing their own lies.

Lying is essential to humanity. It plays as large a part perhaps as the quest for pleasure, and is moreover governed by that quest. One lies in order to protect one's pleasure, or one's honour if the disclosure of one's pleasure runs counter to one's honour. One lies all one's life long, even, especially, perhaps only, to those who love one. For they alone make us fear for our pleasure and desire their esteem.

Luz's manner of speaking made it clear that she had no idea what she might say next. It wasn't that she made things up, strictly speaking--only that facts were merely a point of departure for her.

Lying," he said out loud, hoping no one would hear. "I need to lie. Teach me, quickly." I wouldn't if I were you, came the response. For a start, it's a variable concept here. You are in a culture where ambiguity has been raised to a high level. Let me give an example: depending on phrasing, circumstance, expression, body movement, intonation and context, the statement "I love you" can mean I love you; I don't love you; I hate you; I want to have sex with you; I do, in fact, love your sister; I don't love you any more; leave me alone, I'm tired, or I'm sorry I forgot your birthday. The person being talked to would instantly understand the meaning but might choose to attribute an entirely different meaning to the statement. Lying is a social act and the nature and import of the lie depends in effect on an unspoken agreement between the parties concerned. Please note that this description does not even begin to explore the concept of deep lies, in which the speaker simultaneously says something he knows to be untrue and genuinely believes it nonetheless: politicians are particularly adept at this.

Lying in small doses makes a good storyteller great.